


Left On Read

by MorningSun



Category: Dreamer Trilogy - Maggie Stiefvater, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25960186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorningSun/pseuds/MorningSun
Summary: Adam comes back for break and Ronan is not there.
Relationships: Jordan/Declan Lynch, Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 28
Kudos: 106





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this back in February after finishing CDTH before the world went nuts and shut down and, well, you know the drill. It started writing this (as usual) to deal with book hangover, and missing the characters (because I'm a sucker for romance and groups of teenagers running around saving the world)(uh). And at times it was also my personal coping mechanism.
> 
> Anyhoo, I noticed this sitting on my computer and decided to CPR it. I have about 2 more chapters ready to go and then a vague general idea of where I was going with this. So if anyone reads it and would want to get the follow-up, please, let me know. It just might be enough to convince me to finish...

_I’m coming back. Be here for me._

The moment Adam had said it, he knew instinctively Ronan wouldn’t be. He was sure Ronan had tried to go slow and had had every intention of being here, but that was not how their lives usually went. (Which was brunch at midday and an urgent high-stakes catastrophe in the afternoon). The hands of the watch Ronan had dreamt him kept swirling around in a frantic craze offering no clue as to Ronan’s whereabouts, apart from interdimensional travel. But at least they hadn’t stopped completely.

Yet. 

In the light of the present circumstances, Adam had decided he wasn’t really allowed to feel any kind of way about Ronan’s absence from the Barns. The house was empty, dark and silent. Asleep without its dreamer. Adam moved reluctantly through it, his chest heavy with a civil war of its own – welcoming the familiar walls and desperately missing the person who made them a home.

Adam went to the kitchen to fix himself a cup of tea. Memories of the last time they had half walked, half danced into this room barely a week ago kept flashing before his eyes. Adam hungry for Ronan’s mouth on his. Ronan ever so happy to indulge him.

His smile had had a tint of disbelief to it that night. Adam kept catching him grinning like an idiot whenever he thought Adam wasn’t watching. He hadn’t been able to keep his arms off Adam for the entirety of the three hours. Not that Adam had fared much better himself, and yet his touch, his kisses were fuelled by desire, eagerness, weeks of pent-up energy pouring out, while Ronan’s were lazier - all love and gratitude. Out there for Adam to see and feel without asking anything in return. Intertwined fingers, knees pressed together under the dinner table, Ronan tracing patterns on Adam’s bare chest, pressing his lips to Adam’s bad ear.

Adam put a teabag into a yellow mug and poured hot water over it. He let the tea sit and checked his phone while waiting like he had done dozens of times already that day. He stared for a moment at Ronan’s text, to which he still hadn’t responded. As time passed the two tics marking read felt increasingly ominous. It could no longer be brushed off as mundane forgetfulness. This wasn’t a Harvard acquaintance, whose messages Adam would occasionally read from notifications before sliding his phone back inside the bag.

This was Ronan.

This was Ronan saying goodbye. Adam had known it the second he saw the message on his lock screen. And he refused to accept it. The more he psychoanalysed himself, the more Adam saw how the non-response could be interpreted as a pathetic last stitch attempt to control the uncontrollable. Here he was - left behind. With the message left unanswered like that Adam could just about convince himself that it had been his choice. This was his last line of defence to hide behind. Ronan didn’t get to play the martyr. He didn’t get to say goodbye.

 _Tamquam alter idem_. Adam threw out the teabag and left the kitchen. He didn’t bother turning the lights on, just climbed the stairs in silence, walked to Ronan’s room and sat on the edge of his bed. Adam had traversed the same path countless times in the months before leaving. Sometimes sneaking upstairs for an afternoon nap after a particularly gruelling shift. Sometimes hiding away to read a book. Other times tangled up with Ronan, lips on stubble, clothes flying to every side. He could have done it with his eyes closed.

God, he missed him.

Adam put the tea on the nightstand. Moonlight was carving its way across the floor, up his left arm and torso, right over his left eye onto the wall. It struck Adam, that he had been under the impression he was keeping it all together quite gracefully, given the circumstances. But now in the quiet of the night, on the edge of Ronan’s bed, yet Ronan-less, Adam realised he was holding his breath. He tried to let it out then, but with the slightest shift something enormous and heavy moved in his chest, threatening to burn him up from the inside, so Adam pressed his lips back shut and lay down on the mattress, crossing his arms over his chest.

He stared into the empty space in front of him, where he and Ronan sat the first time Ronan kissed him. Adam remembered Ronan taking the small toy car out of his hands. His palm on his cheek. His lips emboldened by the birthday party downstairs and their collective impending doom. Adam remembered reality shifting and rearranging itself to fit a different story.

The arms of his watch were still spiralling. Adam closed his eyes.

He had never fared too well with the feeling of uselessness. It ate at him like an untraceable poison. Here Adam’s body was haunted by ghosts of past kisses and warm bodies shifting just enough to both fit on the bed. He could almost feel Ronan’s breath on the side of his neck, his arms drawing him closer. Skin against skin. It was the kind of happiness that only made you happy in the moment and was otherwise painful to remember.

Sometimes Adam wished he had never left. Not enough to regret it, but enough to often make him want to run away. In an ironic twist of faith, his runaway fantasies often featured Henrietta – the place he had hoped for most of his life to escape. More specifically, it involved hot summer evenings in the Barns and warm midnight swims in the lake with the guy he was hopelessly in love with. Adam wished he had missed his sociology presentation and stayed for the night, for the day, for the week...

His rational brain told him how stupid that would have been, how it would have added to an already busy schedule. Adam knew he had made the smarter choice. He just hated that for a while now the smarter choices seemed to be pulling him and Ronan apart. It was smarter to go to Harvard like he had always dreamed. It was smarter to lie about the reason why his dorm had ended up trashed. It was smarter to only stay for three hours. _Fuck that_.

Swearing only made Adam miss Ronan more. Being in his room was excruciating and soothing all at once. Adam sat up to drink some of his tea, hoping it would calm him down. He couldn’t tell if it did. Which most likely suggested to the contrary. Still, Adam emptied the mug and put it back on the nightstand.

Tomorrow he was going to find Declan and figure out some way to be useful. Tomorrow he was going to devote every last inch of his brain to connecting the dots of what was really going on. Tomorrow he was going to figure out why eight whole hours seemed to be _missing_ from his life. But tonight Adam let himself feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. He glanced at his watch.

Its hands still danced.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for everyone who showed interested in this :) You keep me going (much slower than I'd like to, but still...). Forgive me if I get some of the facts (locations; who knows what etc.) wrong, by now it's been several months since I read the book.

Ronan was in Adam’s dream made of flames. The world burned. It was not that there was anything particularly humanlike about the fire, but in its flames, its fervour, its searing heat, Adam recognised Ronan’s broad shoulders and the tattoo snaking up his back. Ronan turned and stepped closer. Adam thought he saw relief in the face of this flame version of him.

Ronan reached out for Adam’s hands and for a second Adam worried he might get burnt, but, as it turned out, Adam too was made of flames. This strange realization emboldened him to pull the fire-Ronan into a hug. It didn’t feel quite right. He was missing the physical weight of Ronan, the flex of his muscles under Adam’s arms, the smell of his skin. But it was better than nothing. The twisted dream logic still allowed Adam to feel the embrace as a distant memory, combined with the heat of the flames.

The fire-Ronan leaned back slightly and pressed his forehead against fire-Adam’s forehead. The gesture was so achingly familiar that it tore Adam’s heart open. He wanted desperately to hold onto Ronan, but there was nothing to grasp, nothing to keep close. Only the flames.

Fire-Ronan put his palm on Adam’s cheek. He was suddenly overcome with bone-deep longing, desire, and sadness. A heart attack in slow motion. The feelings were his and at the same time, they were Ronan’s. Or maybe it was the fire. There was no way to tell the difference. Adam put his hand on Ronan’s fiery chest, looking for a heartbeat where there was none. He missed him. This was frustrating. It made Adam feel even more helpless than before.

Fire-Ronan brushed his thumb over Adam’s lips. Adam felt it all through his body. The flames burnt hotter. It was difficult to breathe. Somewhere in the distance Adam felt he was beginning to be pulled away from the dream into wakefulness. Adrenaline surged in his fire-made limbs. He tried unsuccessfully to get hold of something concrete.

“ _Cum tempus fuerit_ ,” fire-Ronan said, his voice nothing more than the crackling of the flames.

Adam woke up.

***

Still reeling after the odd dream encounter, Adam had barely noticed the drive to Washington. He had called Declan early in the morning to learn his and Matthew’s current whereabouts, which turned out to be a dingy motel hidden away from sight. The polar opposite of what Declan usually went for. Adam took the stairs to the second floor and knocked on the bright red door of room 21. After a beat, it swung open, revealing a beautiful dark-skinned girl with flower tattoos on her neck. Their eyes locked for a second. Adam thought of how fervently the Crying club would gush over her, rush to add her to a growing collection of human goddesses. Maybe he’d text them later.

The girl – Jordan – was still trying to work out whether Adam was a threat. He remembered the peculiar way Declan had talked about her. _It’s the three of us – me, Matthew and Jordan_. His voice had the tone of feigned ignorance. Declan had almost gotten away with playing cool except for the millisecond of hesitation leading up to Jordan's name. Whoever she was, Jordan was definitely not an Ashley. Right now her eyes narrowed in concentration. She was wearing a beige sweatshirt and joggers – something most people would pick for airports.

“Um...Hello,” Adam said, switching weight to his right leg, “Is Declan here?”

Jordan’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. Before she had the time to answer, the door on the other side of the room opened and Matthew emerged with a smile already taking over his face as if he had been waiting his entire life to see Adam in the doorway of this secluded, rundown motel. Adam smiled back.

“Adam!” Matthew exclaimed, crossing the room and pulling Adam into a quick but tight embrace.

“Hi, Matthew,” Adam said, “It’s good to see you.”

And it really was. The presence of the youngest brother Lynch had always been magnetic. Soothing even. However, Adam knew that on this particular occasion the reason behind it was selfish. If Matthew was still awake, so was Ronan. Adam felt a little guilty about the cause of his relief, somehow it felt cruel.

Declan appeared from the next room wearing a colourless crewneck sweater and dark jeans. He looked like a department store mannequin. Ready to blend in with the wallpaper. Only his hair (and his features for that matter) were uncharacteristically dishevelled. Adam thought that maybe for once he would look twice if he saw him on the street. He didn’t have time to ponder what was causing this change in perception, because Declan pulled him deeper into the room and closed the door, checking the hallway beforehand.

“Did anyone follow you?” Declan asked Adam, somehow already annoyed.

“No,” Adam responded, slightly irritated at the suggestion, “For the record, if someone had, I wouldn’t have brought them straight here to you.”

At that Declan stopped for a moment and looked at Adam, frowning. Adam could almost see the tape rewinding in his brain. It struck him as something Gansey used to do after saying something ridiculously elitist and being called out on it. Which only showed Declan hadn’t meant to offend.

Adam inhaled and let it go. Neither of them knew what to say. Declan had rarely been something other than dismissive towards Adam, and Adam was still somewhat embarrassed for having ever cared so much about what the older brother Lynch thought of him. Even now that he’d proven himself to be Declan’s equal by any conceivable measure, Adam found it difficult to forget how it used to be. He was glad his accent was now hardly ever noticeable and simultaneously disappointed at that being a factor that still affected him. Matthew had joined Jordan in what appeared to be a tiny kitchen area. Their energetic chatter was so lively it felt it shouldn’t be able to exist in the same room as the silence between Adam and Declan. They had hardly spent any time trying to figure each other out and it showed.

“Sorry,” Declan finally said and sighed, “I’ve barely slept for days, which would explain why I’m constantly on the edge…” he lost his train of thought for a second and frowned, “Make yourself at home.” Declan said gesturing towards the room, “What took you so long anyway?”

Adam barely managed to keep confusion from taking over his features. He glanced instinctively at his watch, which was no help as usual (but which was still moving nonetheless). Adam took out his phone to check the time. It couldn’t be more than 2 PM, so he couldn’t imagine what Declan was hinting at. Adam hadn’t even stopped on his way to Washington. Maybe he’d gotten too used to Ronan’s driving habits that always cut drive time at least by half. Then again no one, and certainly not Declan, would ever expect another person to subject themselves to that level of lunacy.

It was 6.17 PM. Adam froze. He thought back to the drive over. He’d been hopelessly lost in his thoughts. Maybe more so than usual, but even that couldn’t explain four additional hours. _Which meant it had happened again._ The third time he’d lost time. Or the memory of it. Adam tried to will himself into remembering, but it was pointless. He couldn’t even tell at which point he had timed out. Adrenaline sparked in the middle of his chest. Ever since he’d gone into a trance in the Barns and been seen by the monster, Adam couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched. It was unsettling. It reminded him of the last time he was possessed. The absolute absence of control. Adam wasn’t willing to go through that again. He wanted to talk to Ronan. He looked at the small scar on his hand and remembered Declan was still waiting for an answer.

“Doesn’t matter,” Adam said counting on Declan not caring enough to ask a follow-up question. He didn’t. They stared at each other for a moment more.

“Does either of you want some hot chocolate?” Jordan asked from the kitchenette. It was a welcome excuse to join the other two members of this team of fugitives instead of falling into another deep silence.

“Of course, they do,” Matthew answered for them, “It’s hot chocolate.”

Adam smiled at his enthusiasm. Strangely enough, it reminded Adam of Ronan in the rare moments when he was so overcome with excitement over having dreamt something just how he had planned it that he forgot to be cool. A year ago, enthusiasm would have been the last thing Adam would have associated with Ronan Lynch. It was all different now. The link between the middle brother Lynch and the youngest seemed obvious. Adam was also glad for the excuse to avoid any more questions from Declan.

Jordan and Matthew had already poured four cups of hot chocolate and now they gathered next to the kitchenette. Adam and Matthew on the two wobbly chairs at the small round table, Jordan on the counter and Declan leaning against it next to her. Something about the sight of her fingers an inch apart from his instinctively felt almost too intimate to look at. Adam focused instead on the contents of his cup. His heart prickled with envy, nonetheless. This was not in the slightest how he’d planned to spend his break. He had gotten through so many late nights, gruelling study sessions and boring textbooks just on the promise of being able to go home to his boyfriend, throw away his phone and not have a worry in sight. Of course, that was never how it went for them. Looking back, the summer break had been a fluke. A false hope that somehow they’d gotten over the hardest part. Now Adam wondered if anyone ever reached the point of being past the hardest part. Maybe everyone was always a step behind it. It was a depressing thought.

“So, what is the plan here?” Adam asked, in an attempt to redirect his mind to something more productive.

“Stay on the run until we figure out who or what is going after us,” Declan answered without as much as blinking.

“After you?” Adam frowned. From the limited conversations they’d had over the phone, he had been under the impression that the hunt was aimed specifically at dreamers. The rest of them were supposed to be inconsequential, therefore safe.

“Well, technically, after dreamers, but since I happen to share the face of one, I’m as much of a target as them,” Jordan explained, pointing at her face and smiling, visibly irritated by this fact. Declan stared at her, his jaw set until Jordan lifted her eyes and made him look away. Adam connected the dots. Jordan was a dream.

The realization must have been written all over his face since Jordan felt the need to elaborate.

“I’ve shared my face and my life with a few other girls. They are... _were_ the only family I ever knew,” she corrected herself. Whatever had happened to her family had to have been recent, as she was still getting used to this new reality, her pain obvious and raw in her features, “now there’s just me and Hennessy. At least I can be sure of that because I’m still here.”

“And Ronan is ok too because I am,” Matthew added. Both Adam and Declan flinched at this. The secret of Matthew’s origins had been so vast and so dangerous, it felt startling to have it out in the open now. It felt ill-fitting that the world hadn’t collapsed in on itself now that the cat was out of the bag. Declan put his cup loudly down on the counter and walked a few steps away from the rest of them.

“Declan,” Jordan said. Her voice sounded like red velvet. So did Declan’s name. It sounded wrong to Adam. He thought of a video Fletcher had insisted he watch – one of the sad breakup songs changed into major key. This was the same weird sensation. He had only ever heard Declan’s name being spoken out of spite or anger, with reserve or indifference. It was cold steel, concrete consonants, vowels cut short. It was the polite hello to co-workers you had no interest in getting to know better. But from Jordan it sounded like a dark jazz bar and the deep hum of the base, unexplored opportunities, crisp winter air. Everything Declan had worked tirelessly not to be associated with.

Declan ran his fingers through his dark hair and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, but it was hard to tell what exactly he was sorry about. It was clearly a conversation started long before Adam had ever got here, and he lacked the facts to be able to fill in the gaps.

“We’ll figure this out,” Jordan assured him, “ _Harvard_ will help.”

Adam looked up. He tried to piece together how Jordan had learned this bit of information about him. Not that it would be that hard to come across after a simple google search. It still felt weird to be seen as a Harvard student. Adam had spent years dreaming of it, but the reality of having achieved it had so quickly become his new normal that he hardly ever stopped to think about it. Adam had never expected anything less from himself, which sometimes could cloud the significance of sacrifices he had made to get there.

“Of course, I will,” Adam reassured her, “There must be someone in this city who knows a little bit more about what is going on. We just have to find a lead.”

“Oh, we’ve already got a lead,” Jordan informed Adam, “it has to do with a gruesome burglary-turned-homicide some months ago right here in DC. And another just a few weeks ago. And another one just days ago. Of course, we can’t be sure, but it’s at least worth looking into.”

Adam wished he had picked up the phone when Ronan called. He had clearly missed a whole lot. Only he hadn’t been able to pick up for reasons unknown. Just like today, there had been hours Adam couldn’t account for.

“Adam is not going anywhere alone,” Declan interjected, once again successfully diverting Adam’s attention.

“Excuse me?” Adam looked over his shoulder, “I don’t remember giving _you_ a say in that.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m just trying to look out for everybody’s best interests here, and you are leverage,” Declan continued, “While my brother is in the dream dimension or whatever it is, they can’t get him, but they can very easily get to you and lure him out of there like that,” Declan snapped his fingers on the last word. Adam had to blink to make sure he hadn’t just imagined it. If that had been meant to pass as an apology, it had failed miserably. He said it with about as much sincerity as people who used _no offence_ , but before an insult.

“Don’t even try to convince me otherwise,” Declan warned, “This is _game theory 101_.” The blatant _declanism_ almost had a comforting effect. Adam was close to snapping back at the eldest brother Lynch, hating the assumption that his life was somehow dependent on someone else’s actions, but stopped himself. He’d outgrown this kind of petty anger. Addam was no longer just the poor one of the friend group, fighting with Gansey, who wanted to pay for his lunch at Nino’s. This was a severely inopportune time to slip into old insecurities. 

“How would they even know to target me?” Adam asked, keeping his voice even, “I’ve been fine thus far, haven’t I? If anyone planned to use me as bait, they would have done it by now.”

“You don’t know that,” Declan argued back, “These people probably have no problem hacking into our phones, our social media, our bank accounts. One look at a sizeable transfer towards the repair of a certain Harvard dorm, one phone call to the dean and you’re done. Maybe they’re just now beginning to explore alternative courses of action.”

Adam winced. Declan had chosen that particular example on purpose. It was always best to press where the skin was still raw. A reminder that Adam and Ronan couldn’t take the easy road, live in the same place, go on lunch dates, tear each other’s clothes off whenever. It was aimed at shutting down the discussion and Declan nearly succeeded. If Ronan was here, this would have been the perfect moment for a _Go fuck yourself, Declan_. But he wasn’t, so Adam just shook his head.

“I can’t just sit back and wait for a miracle,” he said, “If we have a lead, one of us has to follow it. It can’t be Jordan, it can’t be Matthew and it won’t be you because he depends on you. That leaves me,” Adam summarized their current situation. Declan didn’t look too pleased. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Fine, we’ll talk more about this tomorrow. But you can’t put me in a position where Ronan would come back and I’d have to tell him you were dead. Then I’m pretty sure he would actually bring about the end of the world.”

“Take it down a notch, I don’t have a death wish,” Adam said. Declan eyed him with a look that said he wasn’t too convinced. Momentarily Adam was afraid the growing silence would prompt Declan to return to the cause of Adam’s delayed arrival, so he quickly changed the subject.

“I met Ronan in a dream tonight,” It seemed like a very strange thing to say. Especially to an audience made up of your boyfriend’s brothers and a stranger.

“And?” Declan asked. One of his brows rose up. A shadow of a smirk formed in the corners of his lips. For some reason, it seemed that Decan was half expecting Adam to share a detailed sex dream. Adam, who would sooner die, ignored it.

“I think he was really there,” he said.

“In your dream?”

“I think so,” Adam said, “It felt like he was there. Like how it feels right now to be in the same room with all of you...I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Declan said after thinking for a bit. The conclusion felt far too rushed given their history with the supernatural.

“We’ve met in the dreamspace before, only then I was technically _awake_ ,” Adam continued, stopping himself when he realized Declan was most likely unaware of his mystical _hobby_. Either way, Adam himself doubted he understood how or why the process worked well enough to properly explain it to anyone else.

“You mean like a trance?” Declan asked. He had caught on more quickly than Adam had given him credit for. Then again, he had spent his entire life surrounded by people and things that shouldn’t exist.

“Something of the sort.”

Declan let out a long breath and massaged his left eye with his fingers as if this new bit of information had made him age another five years. Adam noticed the dark circles under Declan’s eyes. He looked tired, wrung out. His shoulder’s seemed to be weighed down by an entire solar system. Adam thought it had to be what he looked like too.

“Well, did he say anything?” Jordan interjected, visibly intrigued by this latest development.

‘He said ‘when the time comes’ or maybe ‘when the time is right’... It was in Latin,” Adam added, struggling with the proper translation.

Recognition flashed behind Declan’s eyes. The presence of Latin seemed to have persuaded him of the possibility that dream travel was in the least conceivable. Adam watched Declan as he thought it over. When he looked up and caught Adam staring, Declan realized he had let his facade slip for far too long and shifted his face back into a carefully crafted mask. It was a reflex borne out of years of experience.

“Right for what?” Jordan asked. Adam shrugged.

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see if it happens again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next time


	3. Chapter 3

Well after midnight Adam was lying on the folding bed unable to sleep. He checked the newest posts on _Facebook_ (Gansey had posted yet another overly elaborate _Tripadvisor_ review) and Instagram (Eliot had posted a vaporwave edit of a remarkably cute selfie). Adam hoped staring at the screen might get him bored enough to fall asleep, but his plan seemed to be failing. He was just about to switch to plan B and put on a podcast when a notification appeared on the top of the screen with a ding. Adam immediately turned off the sound, careful not to wake the others.

\---

**Fletcher**

_Active 1 minute ago_

_02:43_

_I thought people in perfect Southern families never had trouble sleeping._

Adam stared at the message for a moment, gathering the mental energy for another lie. He had run with it for far too long to back out now. Some idyllic amalgamation of _Look Homeward, Angel_ , _How To Kill a Mockingbird_ and dinner parties at the Ganseys’ that was just delicate enough to not raise any questions. Lying had been surprisingly easy. That is, until Ronan: the very manifestation of truth itself, had turned up at his dorm and cornered him with the one question no one else knew to ask.

 _That’s some pretty fucked up shit,_ he’d said. The words had been playing on a loop in Adam’s head for weeks. Back then he’d thrown perfectly logical excuses at Ronan, dressed as an accusation. Adam had practised them beforehand – a rationale for his decision to invent a new backstory. But he had never spoken them out loud. Especially not to Ronan, who never lied. Somehow Ronan had managed to get under his skin, so now Adam could no longer convince himself that lying was the best option. Here he was, caught in the middle of a double life.

Adam typed back.

\---

_02:46_

_I guess the grass ain’t always greener on the other side._

He settled on a cliché that said enough without saying anything at all. If his intuition was right, Fletcher had something else entirely on his mind, which meant he wouldn’t notice the lack of a lengthier explanation. In the only other bed in the room, Matthew shuffled in his sleep.

\---

**_Fletcher_ **

_Active now_

_02:46_

_How is the brooding boyfriend?_

\---

Adam stared at the text. He’d been right, there was definitely an agenda at play. One that had been advocated rather enthusiastically over the past weeks. Ever since the dorm incident, when Fletcher had discovered their shared room utterly trashed, he had unilaterally decided that if he hadn’t already, Adam would soon find himself trapped in an abusive relationship. _All the signs are there, you just don’t recognise them_ , Fletcher had been saying, completely oblivious to the irony. In a few days, he had convinced the entire Crying club that Adam was in a dire need of an _inter-friend-sion_. It’s not like violence was a far-fetched conclusion to come to without the supernatural as a possible explanation. Especially after Adam had had to play into it and blame everything on Ronan. It had been the smart thing to do. Still, it ate at his soul.

_02:47_

_Ronan’s not here yet._

Adam had spent weeks following Ronan’s monumental visit slouching around, burying himself in textbooks. The others interpreted it as confirmation of their hypothesis. Of course, they didn’t know that Adam was actually mourning a future that would never be. _A future where Ronan could come stay with him in Cambridge_. There had been a few hours where that future had been real. Adam remembered happiness crashing over him in waves. A total, unadulterated victory. He’d stared at and touched, and kissed Ronan’s face until he’d gotten a smile out of him. A personalised admission of his own excitement.

Adam had imagined waking up together, showing Ronan his favorite locations around town, buying a coffee machine or a succulent. Adam had never really let himself imagine any sort of a happy future for himself before that. An esteemed one, yes, a successful one, yes, but never happy. Suddenly, there it had been, vibrant and real. They would wake up the next morning and the future would be there, waiting.

Now it felt like getting stabbed in the kidney. A cruel joke. Adam looked at the _yet_ at the tail end of his text and wondered if that, too, was a lie. Or how long it would take until it became one. 

_02:47_

_He’s visiting his family in Ireland._

Now he had invented a lie about Ronan’s family too. The very family that was contained in its entirety in this average motel room. Still, Adam couldn’t bring himself to lie about being with Ronan, so he lied about the reason they weren’t together. There was nothing like secrets to tell reality and make-believe apart. Soon he would get so deep into his lies that he may cease to exist. Maybe if he kept going, the lies would somehow dissolve the very fabric of reality and he wwouldn't have to feel it anymore.

Fletcher began writing but the three dots quickly disappeared from the screen. They popped back up, then stopped. Started. Then stopped. Finally, the message appeared.

\---

**_Fletcher_ **

_Active now_

_02:49_

_Maybe that’s for the better._

\---

Adam stared at the screen in disbelief. He frowned, battling an overwhelming desire to hurl his phone at the wall. 

_\---_

_02:50_

_It’s not_

_\---_

**** **_Fletcher_ **

_Active now_

_02:50_

_Just saying, some time to clear your head might be a good thing. We don’t always know what we need until we get it_

\---

_02:51_

_I’m not getting into another argument with you at 3AM_

What Adam really wanted was to type back something hurtful, put up a line of defence that would end the conversation permanently. Spill the whole truth. That wasn’t the smart choice. Adam was tired of being on edge, trying to accommodate all the impossibilities of his life and relationship, trying to fix a picture of his future and failing to fit all the pieces into it. 

He tapped on Ronan’s name in the chat list and looked at Ronan’s last text until his eyes hurt. Then he locked the phone and welcomed the darkness. It only lasted a moment because someone had switched on the tiny light under the kitchen cabinets. Since sleep was still nowhere to be found, Adam decided to get up and get a glass of water. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one fighting insomnia.

Adam stood up quietly and walked into the next room. As he drew nearer to the corner he could tell apart a whispered conversation between Declan and Jordan, who were unaware of their unexpected audience.

“Don’t you think you were a little harsh today?” Jordan asked, her tone lacking the accusation in her words.

“Possibly,” Declan answered unwillingly and with a sigh, “But whenever I think of something going wrong, something bad happening to Ronan and Hennessy, I’m paralysed. I can’t...I’m not ready to end up all alone.”

Adam stopped. He knew the feeling. It was the same excuse he’d thrown at Ronan the night before the dorm incident. _I have no one_. In retrospect, it seemed unduly vicious. He shouldn’t have said it. Actually, that was something that should never be said in the presence of someone you loved. Of course, Adam hadn’t meant it in a dismissive way. He hadn’t meant it at all. He’d just wanted a simpler past. He wanted to be unburdened.

The truth was, if anything happened to Ronan and Hennessy, he’d still have Gansey and Blue, even the Crying Club. Declan would lose everyone. Adam wondered if he’d ever see him again. He wasn’t sure Declan would want to. It’s not like they knew each other that well. And what little relationship they had, as it stood now, was made up mostly of hearsay. Filtered through the prism of Ronan Lynch. Adam never wanted to get to that future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, I definitely plan to explore the Declan/Adam dynamic more in the upcoming chapters...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me take a second to thank everyone who has been leaving kudos and/or comments - you really keep me going! Thank you :)

“Good morning,” Declan, who appeared to be back to his usual composed self, greeted Adam as he was walking out of the bedroom and trying to get his shoulders to move again. There was truly nothing redeeming about the mattress on his bed. Adam had managed to wake up more tired than before. he half considered taking a nap. If this had been the break he’d envisioned, he would now be climbing right back into bed with Ronan to sleep and do nothing until noon. Maybe listen to a podcast while making breakfast. Or practice his Latin. Of course, this wasn't the break he'd planned.

“Good morning,” he replied and looked around. Adam had left Matthew sleeping peacefully. (He had also immediately checked if the hands of his watch were still moving.) Jordan wasn’t awake yet either. It was just him and Declan. Declan, who kept glancing at the bedroom absentmindedly. It occurred to Adam that there was no watch to check if Jordan was still ok. Declan was probably slowly losing it. The watch had slowly become the number one reason why Adam was still capable of rational thought.

“I’m going to get something for breakfast, want to come with?” Declan asked, looking away from the bedroom door and back at Adam. Only slightly taken aback by the invitation, Adam considered it. Most likely this was the talk Declan had unilaterally scheduled for them last night. Adam could also hardly ignore the natural consequence to Declan’s suggestion – a conversation away from _the dreams_. He heard it in his mind and winced.

“Uhm, ok. I’ll get my wallet,” Adam said. Declan raised an eyebrow but refrained from any comments. Adam waited until he had turned his back to him before rolling his eyes. The months at Harvard had done wonders to his tolerance of people with little regard to their finances (as if the trust funds could ever run out). Or in the least, Adam had learned to tuck those away for later when he’d need some healthy motivational anger to get through a twenty-page essay.

They left the motel and walked down the street. Declan insisted that both of them turn off location services on their phones. They also walked a few blocks in random directions to check they didn’t have a tale. It was strange for Adam to be alone with Declan. They had a good enough relationship when there was at least one other person in the room and they weren’t really talking to each other so much as adding to a bigger discussion or agreeing on some reckless thing Ronan had gotten himself into. This was different.

“So, listen, I thought about what you said, and you may be right,” Declan broke the silence. “Trying to find out more about the enemy could help our situation. Or at least it wouldn’t hurt. I’m still a bit worried about the possible _global consequences_ if you were to get abducted, but I could find a way to live with it.”

“You do know that you couldn’t really stop me from doing something if I decided to do it, right?” Adam said, looking at the people bustling by. He couldn’t find a use for his hands so he stashed them into his pockets.

“Maybe,” Declan conceded with little conviction. “But you can’t blame me for finding any resemblance of control a bit comforting right now.”

“No,” Adam agreed. If anyone knew a thing or two about control, it was him. He had spent all his high school years controlling expenses, controlling appearances at school after his father had given him yet another beating, controlling his grades, his desires, his time between studying and part-time jobs. Control had gotten him to where he was now. According to the official story. Lately, Adam had begun to wonder if maybe it was all dumb luck. Which of course was stupid. He had worked himself dead to get the life he wanted. It wasn’t fair to brush it off as nothing.

“It would have to be someplace either extremely public or extremely private,” Declan continued, “However, in the age of the world wide web, I’m not putting much hope on the latter. They’re probably listening in to us now anyway.”

“Who is listening in?” Adam barely suppressed another eyeroll.

“The government, the military, _Boudicca_. Take your pick.”

“Boudicca?”

“Long story. Another time maybe,” Declan waived the question away. Adam tried to imagine a future where he and Declan conversed on a regular basis. It felt stranger still.

They crossed the street to the bakery. A small bell above the door jingled, announcing their entrance. The alluring scent of cinnamon, chocolate and vanilla washed over Adam like a warm embrace. He let out a breath. This place felt like home. One he’d never actually had, but hoped he would someday.

An old plump lady with a coiffed updo smiled at them from behind the counter. She looked comically misplaced in this all-American setting.

“Good morning, my _dears_. Haven’t seen you around,” she said as if it was normal for anyone to meet anyone twice in the city the size of Washington DC. She spoke with a nearly worn-off British accent – a remnant of a life left behind long ago. Adam smiled just barely.

“Good morning,” Declan responded without skipping a beat. A polite and emotionless smile settled on his face, “We’re looking for something to go together with our morning coffee. And something tells me this is just the right place.” He leaned against the display case, effortlessly slipping into small talk. The sight reminded Adam of Gansey at family events – the sort of glossy front that came with money. He wondered if he’d ever have one. Or if he’d want to.

“Oh, you’re absolutely right. May I suggest these fresh-baked hand pies?” the lady said. Adam followed her gaze to small cheese-covered pastries on her left. He could tell they were baked with care. A far cry from mass production.

“It’s a family recipe,” she added.

“Is it?” Declan’s smile grew wider but no more genuine. Adam looked away.

“I’ll take four of those and then also four cherry pockets, please.”

“Oh, delightful!” the lady packed the pastries in four brown paper bags and handed them over to Declan. He pushed a banknote over the counter and thanked her. Cash only, untraceable that way. Rule thirty-four in the Fugitive Rulebook.

“Anything else?” the lady asked.

“Actually,” Adam stepped forward, “Do you happen to have that coffee we are supposed to have these with?” The British baker took her eyes off of Declan and regarded Adam with the same tender expression. Adam thought she would have made the perfect spy. Someone you’d want to spill your guts to.

“Yes, my dear, in fact I do. You’ll need four of those, I presume?” she said, turning just out of sight behind the shelves to a fairly simple coffee machine. At the press of a button, it roared to life.

They waited in silence. Declan’s polite mask had slipped while she wasn’t watching. He had drifted away in his thoughts. A crease formed on Declan’s forehead. He was, no doubt, going into overdrive thinking about how to keep all of them alive. Not to mention Ronan and Hennessey, who weren’t even in the same physical realm as the rest of them.

“Here,” the lady said, handing Adam four coffees in a cup holder, “You, boys, have a nice day.”

“Thank you,” Declan smiled at her, a little more genuine this time “You too.”

Their exit was accompanied by another cheerful jingle of the bell. The street was louder than Adam remembered. The peace he’d felt inside dissipated after just a few steps. Since Declan had insisted on _the spy-proofing_ now they had quite a bit of walking back to do. The silence between them was getting a bit less uncomfortable.

“I don’t think we can get him out of this mess this time,” Declan said, emerging from deep thought. Adam didn’t have to ask who he meant. “And I don’t think I can live with that.” Declan looked somewhere at the horizon. The morning sky was cotton candy pink today.

“Did you know Aurora lived a whole day after our father died before falling asleep?” Declan glanced at Adam. He did know. But Declan’s tone showed he wasn’t really looking for an answer.

“So now every time I look at Matthew, I keep thinking maybe we’re already out of time and this is that one day before he collapses and that’s how I find out I’ve lost them both.”

The thought was too staggering to take in all at once. They took their time.

“Ronan made a watch that shows what time it is wherever he’s at,” Adam added after a while. Declan looked at his hand visibly dissatisfied with only now being made aware of such a key detail. For a second it seemed he was going to delve into another lecture, but in the end, he just sighed and looked down.

“Just tell me if it stops spinning.”

Adam nodded. The conversation died down again.

“Do you remember the last thing he said to you?” Adam asked. They were finally nearing the motel. 

“Approximately.”

“Was it a goodbye?” Adam continued. He thought of the text message again.

“It was more of a ‘please don’t get yourself killed because even if you hate me, I don’t want to lose my entire family’,” Declan elaborated hiding the truthfulness of the statement behind sarcasm, “Only not in so many words.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Adam said catching Declan’s eye for a second, “Well, maybe your driving skills.” Both of them chuckled.

“What was the last thing he told you?” Declan returned the question.

“Something that contextually read as a goodbye. Or not. It was in Latin.” Adam’s heart picked up the pace a fraction.

“I doubt it was a goodbye,” Declan looked at Adam again, “Not when it’s _you_.”

He said it almost like it was a bad thing. Adam frowned.

“Are you trying to say something?”

“It’s not my place to say anything,” Declan replied. Then he said it. “But I knew that sooner or later this is how it would all turn out. Panic. Chaos. My brother leading the parade. It was always going to be this way. Inevitably.”

Adam was fairly certain he understood what was said between the lines. Declan wasn’t enough to keep Ronan from imploding. And neither was Adam. He wasn’t enough. The assertion was like a cut to the wrist.

“It’s not like this was all his fault,” Adam continued, “It’s bigger than all of us.”

“That exactly what I’m saying, _Adam_ ,” Declan said, his mind already made up, “It’s always been bigger than us. The difference, however, is that Ronan can’t choose to walk away from it and I can’t, but you can. And, frankly, you should. You didn’t get into Harvard to then be tied to a _shitty_ small town for the rest of your life like Ronan is. Sooner or later you’ll have to face the facts. My advice would be to pick _sooner_.”

Adam stopped and looked straight at Declan, “You can keep it.”

“If the aftermath of the dorm incident is any indication, he’d be devastated for a while. But at least you’d both be free. The longer you deny it, the harder it is going to be,” Declan added without invitation. He said it like it was all settled. Logged into the filing system and awaiting implementation.

“That’s not fair,” Adam said still refusing to walk. The city flowed around them like a river of people and cars. Adam just stared at Declan because all of the arguments for why he was wrong evaded him in this very moment. It wasn’t like Adam hadn’t thought about the unfeasibility of his own happy future before. He had done so extensively after the dorm incident and on his way to the Barns on Ronan’s birthday and never came up with a single rational answer that held up under pressure. That is, until Ronan was there in the same room with Adam, looking at him like he held the key to the universe, drawing him closer. Then it was obvious. Now Adam tried to recall the feeling but came up short.

“Difficult doesn’t always mean it’s not worth it,” he told Declan, who showed no willingness to change his mind on this particular point. In a swift decision, Adam took one of the coffee cups, set it on the ground, handed the rest of them to Declan, took one of the brown bags out of his hand, then picked up his cup and stepped back.

“I think I’ll go for a walk and see you back at the motel,” Adam told him, relishing in the chance to deny Declan full control of the situation, “And don’t worry, the location services are still off.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have finally managed to briefly crawl out of the tight clutches of a full-time job and a full-time masters studies, and equally time-sucking extra-curriculars to prove to myself and anyone who is still interested that I haven't completely given up. My apologies for the long wait ^_^;

Adam walked on angrily for a while without any destination in mind. Even when he could feel the strain in his heels, he didn’t stop. Walking at least partially occupied his attention, leaving less time to over-analyse the events of the past few days. Finally, Adam set his eyes on a stone cross reaching towards the sky a few blocks in front of him. A white marble Catholic church. A faith he didn’t always agree with but had learned to respect. Or at least, had experienced it through Ronan’s eyes enough times to develop a reasonable understanding of it. Besides, the sight reminded Adam of Ronan and St. Agnes and, since he was in a mood to torture himself, it seemed like the perfect place to be. Adam briefly recalled a time (one of many) before he had moved to the Barns for the summer when Ronan had barged into his room after the Sunday service, wearing something uncharacteristically respectable and dropped next to Adam on his narrow bed without saying anything but being otherwise visibly pleased with existence. In hindsight, it all seemed so uncomplicated. Of course, back then Adam couldn’t see it. The true nature of events only crystallised through comparison with what came after.

Adam sat on the steps leading up to the entrance and exhaled.

The conversation with Declan kept replaying in his mind, taking up airtime he wasn’t willing to give. Adam stared at the cars passing by and the traffic lights changing in their predictable well-timed manner. At least, they were something to cling to so that he wouldn’t get lost in a chaotic spiral of thoughts that was the constant, buzzing analysis of the current state of his world. Adam sat on the steps, ate his breakfast but could barely enjoy it.

His mind wandered back to the fire dream. There had to be away how he could replicate it. Maybe scrying would work. He could ask Declan to watch him and make sure he doesn’t get stuck. Or, in case the eldest brother Lynch was too freaked out about the suggestion, he could ask Jordan. A theory had begun to form in his mind about the current whereabouts of Ronan. One he could only imagine but not explain. It was the reversal of the usual dreamer trick – instead of pulling something out of a dream, Ronan had somehow managed to pull himself into one. The question was, could he get out on his own or did he have to be pulled out? And if so – could Adam do it?

Adam’s phone vibrated in his pocket, pulling him back to the present. A wave of sounds clashed back into existence and Adam blinked a few times to get used to his surroundings again. He reached for the phone that kept vibrating and saw Gansey’s name on the screen over a picture of him standing next to his mint tree wearing glasses and a genuinely startled expression. It was a rare gem of a picture.

Adam answered the videocall and tried to readjust his own face into something presentable while the call connected. Finally, a somewhat grainy version of Gansey’s face appeared on the screen.

“Hello,” he greeted Adam squinting at the camera, “is the sound working?”

“Yes, it’s fine,” Adam said, smiling faintly at the familiarity of Gansey’s already preoccupied voice, “How are you?”

“We’re great as usual,” Gansey began, shifting immediately to _we_ without a second thought. Adam heard Blue murmur ‘ _knock on wood_ ’ somewhere behind the scenes. Adam smiled at that too. Gansey turned his head to look at her with a mischievous grin.

“Really, we are fine. Certainly not involved in any apocalyptic storylines as of now. However, I did almost get stung by a scorpion yesterday, which, undoubtedly, would not have ended very well. How are things in DC?”

“Positively apocalyptic,” Adam responded, “and hardly getting better. In fact, I might even go as far as to say it’s getting worse.”

“I assume that Ronan is still AWOL,” Gansey’s expression had shifted to worry.

“Yes, but he is alive for now,” Adam said, glancing at his watch, “somewhere. And I’m trying to figure out a way to get there too. Scrying might work, I think. We’ve done it before, so as long as I have someone to pull me out of there, it should be fine.”

“Is that safe? And is that safe for Ronan? I mean, if there is an international network of _dreamcatchers_ , maybe it is safer in the…” Gansey paused trying to find the right descriptor.

“ _dreamspace_?” Adam suggested and Gansey nodded, “Yes, I’ve considered that, too. But I also need to know he hasn’t decided to do something reckless again, because…”

Adam stopped in the middle of his sentence and looked up for a moment. The sky had turned a gentle pink as it usually did before sunset. For some reason, it registered as troublesome in Adam’s mind, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint why. He stared at the sky and found looking at it unbearable. It was precisely the kind of peaceful beauty that demanded to be admired, but Adam refused to give in. He glanced back at his phone. Even the pink sky couldn’t help him soothe the deep ache of helplessness that had plagued him ever since he first glanced at the text from Ronan.

“ _What if...”_ Adam began, determined to explain to Gansey what he himself couldn’t grasp, “What if he...” Adam stopped again, hesitant to finish the thought for fear he might somehow bring it into existence.

A year ago, before Harvard, before spending the summer in the Barns, before Lindenmere, before they ever got together, Ronan had been Gansey’s problem. If he’d go racing and drove into a ditch, that’d be Gansey’s problem. If he got shitfaced on a weekday and got into a fight, Gansey would be the one to go pick him up. If he flunked out of school, Gansey would have to reason with the principal. Adam was always there, but he’d had the luxury of being able to put up a wall between himself and whatever destructive shit Ronan was up to. It wasn’t that Adam wouldn’t have cared if something happened, but he would have been able to write it off as Ronan getting what was coming to him.

Now it was his problem. Now the prospect of something happening was making his heart race so fast it felt heavy. There were no walls left. Just Adam jumping out of the trenches and running onto the no man’s land like a fool. For a second he let himself imagine.

“He won’t,” Gansey responded, “He can’t. He wouldn’t.”

Adam huffed. It would be so Ronan-like to bend faith to his liking. And it was so Gansey to think Ronan could.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Adam said, “because it would be nice to stop feeling as if my entire life was put on a pause.” And because Ronan’s absence had set him off-balance.

For a while neither of them said anything.

“How is Declan?” Gansey finally asked.

“He has his _Declan_ moments, but, surprisingly, he has been acting like a human being.”

“ _Whaaat_? Do tell,” Blue’s short dark hair popped onto the screen followed by her surprised face. Adam was happy to see her. “Hi, Adam,” she said and Adam immediately felt more grounded again.

“This morning he almost smoked a cigarette. And he is also crushing _hard_ on the beautiful art forger who is staying with us,” he continued, glad to take his mind off of the dark abyss that was missing Ronan Lynch.

“ _Oh. My. God_.” Blue snatched the phone from Gansey who disappeared from the screen, “Who is this magical creature and is she sticking around?”

Blue had no idea how close to the truth she was. Adam considered telling them the full story, but it didn’t quite feel like his story to tell. Calling Jordan a dream felt like calling her not human, but she felt so far from it as possible. Just like Matthew, she was vibrant, joyful, alive. Calling her anything but felt like a huge disservice.

“Her name is Jordan, she’s the polar opposite of Declan on the spectrum of “interesting” and she’s staying for the foreseeable future,” Adam answered, even though nothing about the future seemed foreseeable, “It’s complicated.”

“What isn’t these days,” Blue commented, “and Adam?” she said as Adam turned his attention back to the screen, “Ronan will manage. He’s got a lot to fight for. Plus, he is much less of an asshole these days.”

That much was true.

“Yesterday he came to me in a dream,” Adam said, changing the subject in order to avoid another mental spiral.

“You mean you saw him in a dream, or it was something like _Inception_?” Blue asked.

“Definitely _Inception_ ,” Adam said, glad to be back with people who didn’t for a second question the plausibility of the supernatural explanation. At Harvard, he had come to view it as a great luxury.

“Is that even possible?” Blue asked and looked sideways at Gansey.

“I’m not sure, but after everything we have seen I wouldn’t go as far as to say it is entirely out of the realm of possibilities,” Gansey commented, sounding like a well-read octogenarian once again. Adam’s chest tightened with the kind of homesickness that was tied to people instead of places.

“What did he say?” Blue asked Adam.

“‘When the time is right’,” Adam said, “in Latin.”

“I expected as much,” Blue said somewhat sarcastically. Adam fought the urge to roll his eyes at her teasing, which had quickly become Blue’s favourite pastime activity during the summer and now mostly consisted of commenting double entendres under every Instagram picture Adam ever posted with Ronan. (Despite the fact that Ronan was hardly ever fully in the frame.)

“Does that ring a bell?” Gansey asked.

“No,” Adam said, “Which is why I want to try to get to the dreamspace and ask him.” Which was far from the only reason Adam wanted to try it.

Adam’s phone buzzed with a message from Declan.

_Adam, where the FUCK are you?_

And another one.

_!!!!_

And another.

_Please tell me you haven’t been abducted._

The ominous period at the end of the message sealed the deal. Adam smiled at the sentiment.

“I think Declan is starting to worry,” he told Blue and Gansey, “I’ll call you if there’s any news.”

“Please do,” Gansey responded in the voice of a worried parent.

“Bye!” Blue managed to say before Adam disconnected the call.

Adam sent Declan a picture of the pink sky and stood up.

The moment Adam stepped through the door, Declan rushed out of the next room, gripping his phone in one hand.

“Thank God, you’re alive. That means I get to live to see another day. I know we didn’t exactly part on a good note, but you can’t just disappear for an entire day and ignore all of my attempts to contact you.”

Adam raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean? I was away for an hour.”

Declan paused and looked at him with the most perplexed expression which had ever graced his face.

“Check the time,” was all he said.

With a sudden spike of adrenaline in his system, Adam looked at the clock on the wall. Before he even saw the time, he knew what had happened. He could see the warm light of the sunset coming from the window and suddenly understood what had seemed off about it. Finally, he looked at the clock and held his breath for a long second. He was missing twelve hours. Which meant, it was getting worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I want to quickly thank everyone who has liked and commented on this while I was trying to scrape together the creative energy to keep going. It is always a bright spot in my day, important not to take for granted.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for some action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from a month of personal Hellll. I bet some of you had begun to lose hope. But nevertheless - I haven't given up yet. Thank you to all those who have been commenting and leaving kudos. It's much appreciated. By popular demand, I've thrown a bit of spice in this one ;)

“How long has this been happening?” Declan asked, massaging his eyes as if fighting a massive headache. He was leaning against the wall, happy for the chance not to divert any more energy away from problem-solving than was strictly necessary.

“Since the week after Ronan’s birthday,” Adam muttered. It was clear that whatever had been there in the dreamspace, whatever had seen him, had left something behind. Something strong enough to take control over Adam’s mind, push him into unconsciousness. _Again_. He seemed to be a prime destination for all sorts of demons.

“And you neglected to mention it why?” Declan slipped back into the role of a worrying father, then took one glance at Adam’s face and decided to drop it, “What’s causing it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can’t be anything good. Do you have any idea how to stop it?”

“No, but I’ve got an idea on how to get to Ronan,” Adam said, “If you’ll help me.” Declan looked a bit sceptical.

“Listen, whatever is happening to me, it is probably going to get worse and it is probably connected to the dreamspace. At least it was last time. I need to get to it and talk to Ronan. It's our best chance to figure out what exactly is going on. I know how to get in, but it’s not always easy to get back, and the longer I stay the more dangerous it becomes. Which is why I need someone to wake me up,” Adam paused as the memory of the soft light of Ronan’s room flooded his memory. He looked down at the sleeves of his shirt, which hid the still tender scar, “In 10 minutes. Otherwise I might…get lost.”

“Great,” Declan sighed but didn’t refuse, after a second another thing registered on his face “What do you mean _the last time_? This has happened before? What the hell were the four of you doing in high school?”

“What happened?” Jordan, who had been sitting silently at the small kitchen table, asked with a pensive look on her face.

“I was possessed by a demon and almost killed Ronan…and everyone else by association.”

“Do you think that whatever happened last time is connected to whatever is happening now? I mean, if the demon wanted to kill the dreamer.”

Adam considered it, “I haven’t thought about it.”

“It sounds just like the Lace,” Jordan said, “It’s what Hennessy always saw in her dreams. It’s what brought all of us into existence. And what is trying its best to bring us out of it too.”

Adam thought of the thing he’d seen the last time he went into the dreamspace. It’s inhuman form, it’s torn, lacerated flesh. It was kind of reminiscent of lace. Just like the demon before it, the Lace came from the dreamspace and just like the demon before it, the Lace was hellbent on killing dreamers. He hadn’t made the connection until now, but it didn’t sound remotely far-fetched. Whatever they were fighting against could just as well have originated from the same place that dreamers did.

_A snake eating its own tail._

Adam shuddered at the thought. He wasn’t ready for their luck to run out. However flawed it was.

“Let’s do it then,” Declan said, “If you think it may help, I’ll help you.”

They looked at each other. Adam nodded.

***

Adam found himself standing on a dirt road surrounded by a meadow. A soft summer wind carried the dizzying scent of wildflowers across the road and landed in the nearby moor to Adam's left. Right in front oh him at the top of a hill stood a large Medieval castle. Just like the ones in the BBC documentaries of the Irish countryside he had watched with Ronan on lazy summer evenings in an attempt to learn more about 'his heritage'. They’d even discussed going on a transatlantic vacation someday. Before Cambridge, that is, which nipped all of that in the bud.

The reminder stung like a papercut. Adam brushed it off. The more important thing was - he’d landed in the dreamspace version of the Irish wilderness. _Coincidence?_ Adam began walking towards the castle. He climbed to the top of a small hill, which opened up a view to a valley covered with pink heathers. The sight knocked the air out of Adam’s chest. He had to stop for a moment. The flowers stretched endlessly over the hills, along both sides of the winding road. Then Adam saw him. At the bottom of this hill and just before the next one that lead to the castle, was Ronan. He was walking on, his hands in his pockets, slowly moving towards the castle.

“Ronan?” Adam called to his retreating figure. Ronan kept moving uphill. There was no way he hadn’t heard him.

“Ronan,” Adam called again, breaking into a run. There wasn’t that much distance between them, still, Adam couldn’t get closer. The faster he tried to run, the more distance there was between them. Infuriating dream logic. He kept calling after Ronan with no more luck than before. A feeling that had been dormant for a long time suddenly swirled from inside Adam’s stomach like dark, cold smoke. The one he’d not so long ago known better than anyone ever should, the one he’d fought his entire life to escape: someone who was supposed to love him and protect him pushing him to the side. It felt like a steel rod in Adam’s throat. It invited him to fall right back into it, have it consume him, have it convince him that it was the one and only truth. It started to claw at the edges of Adam’s perception before he forced it out of his mind.

Spurts of orange, yellow and pink split the clouds above. It looked like an upside-down sea of color with waves rushing away from the Sun. The clouds shuffled forward swiftly and second by second took the daylight with it. The scene resembled a time-lapse, it was too fast, too wild, too obviously not bound by the confines of reality. The dream world always found ways to make Adam’s skin prickle with anxiety. The castle hid away in the reemerging shadows, ominous and still.

Adam felt his heartbeat in his temples. He had called Ronan about a dozen times by now, but Ronan kept walking until he had disappeared through the stone arch which led into the courtyard. Adam couldn’t see him anymore but at least now he was making headway, suddenly free of the invisible shackles that had been holding him back before. He ran up the road, through the arch and into the courtyard, which appeared empty.

_No,_ Adam thought, _fuck_.

Ronan had disappeared. The dream had tricked him.

“Adam,” said a voice from behind him. _Ronan_. Adrenaline, relief and desire sparked through Adam’s limbs all at once as if he were standing too close to a box of fireworks. Adam tried to turn around, but Ronan’s hands clasped his wrists so hard he couldn’t move. He winced in pain and furrowed his brows preparing for an insult, but it only lasted a second before Ronan’s lips were on his neck, the hot air from his breath tingling Adam’s skin.

“Non ducor, duco,” Ronan paused and whispered. Adam could feel the smug smile on his face. _I am not led, I lead._ He wanted to turn around and glare at him, tell him he didn’t have time for games. But when he tried to move, Ronan quickly pulled him back against his chest and locked his arms across Adam’s chest. Adam tried to wrestle free, in part because he didn’t like losing, in part because the feel of Ronan’s full weight around him was more than he could bear.

“Non mouent,” Ronan ordered, the words crackling like thin ice just before breaking. A warning. Adam struggled for a few more seconds before giving in. This was Ronan’s world after all. One he knew and understood far better than Adam ever would. There was no reason not to trust him. Besides, Adam wasn’t exactly opposed to the status quo.

He raised his hands and put them on Ronan’s arms. For an exhilarating fraction of a second he felt Ronan shiver in response. Adam knew this was all a dream, he could feel the difference when he compared it to some of his more vivid memories. The dream was less sharp, less precise than reality, soft around the edges. But it was still lightyears better than being made of fire like the last time and right now it was also better than the reality where the two of them were apart.

“Ubi es?” he finally said. _Where are you_.

“Hic,” Ronan responded and pressed a trail of kisses from Adam’s shoulder to his neck. Of course, he was _here._ If only Adam could figure out where _here_ was. He intertwined their fingers and raised Ronan’s hand up to his lips.

“Revenite,” Adam said. _Come back._ After a while he would run out of one word sentences and if Ronan kept evading every single one of them, he’d be no closer to solving this thing than he was before. Ronan kissed Adam’s jaw again, drawing a soft sigh and a plea from him, “Obsecro.”

“Adam,” Ronan said in a tortured tone as if the name burned his lips. He pressed his forehead to the back of Adam’s head and exhaled. His hold on Adam tightened once more. There was something he wasn’t saying.

“Ronan?” he tried to put everything he wanted to ask him in his name. His name, which Adam could be sure would not get lost in translation. Ronan’s hushed moan vibrated against Adam’s skin. He’d grown restless. It had started like a barely audible hum and turned into a roar. Ronan usually got this way when something kept him from what he really wanted to do. And he had never quite learned to stop himself from boiling over, searching for a loophole, a shortcut, an excuse. This hum, this buzz of raw energy was the overture of rule breaking, the second before breaking the speed limit. Adam’s heart pounded inside his chest.

“Claudere oculos,” Ronan told him. Adam closed his eyes. Ronan released him from his grip, stepped in front of him and framed his face with his palms. Adam’s breath got caught in his throat. For a second he was transported back to the summer at the Barns, sunsets, crickets, the dim porch light, mist falling over endless swaying fields. And only the two of them in the entire stratosphere.

“Vincit qui se vincit,” Ronan blurted out and kissed him hard, coaxing Adam’s lips open, stealing whatever oxygen he’d left so that it would never reach his brain and lead him to figure out what on earth he’d meant by his last words. Adam tried to steady his thoughts. It seemed important. He only had to get a second to think clearly. Ronan was very adamant not to give him that second. His right hand moved from Adam’s cheek to his hair and broke whatever concentration he’d mustered. Adam’s fingers slid behind Ronan’s neck and pulled him in. He had to remind himself not to open his eyes. He wanted to see him.

Inevitably they had to break apart to breathe, although the dream had certainly been very accommodating. Ronan’s fingers lingered on Adam’s face. _Vincit qui se vincit._ It was a common saying, something about a war, something intellectuals threw out during routine conversations at dinner parties. _He conquers who conquers himself_. It only took a moment for the puzzle pieces to click into place and stone-cold adrenaline to fill his veins.

But by the time Adam opened his eyes, Ronan had already swiped his thumb over Adam’s lower lip, muttered a low _te amo_ and disappeared.

Adam looked around in hopes to catch a glimpse of Ronan somewhere in the distance. The sky seemed to be stuck just before sundown. The time-lapse had stopped. Everything had stopped. The slight breeze that had been there a minute ago, the slight ruffle of the grass. The dream had gone eerily quiet.

Something moved behind Adam’s back. He didn’t quite know how he knew that because there was no sound. He had to check whether he had lost hearing in his good ear too. But it was more as if everything around him had suddenly been muted. Still, the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Adam turned around and there it was the same…thing, monster, nightmare that he’d met before – _the Lace_ , towering over the castle. It had no eyes and no face and no anything, but it was clear it saw Adam too. And it remembered him.

Adam took a few steps back. His heartbeat was racing. He knew that turning his back to the Lace wasn’t the best option just like one would never turn his back to a rabid dog, but he’d run out of options. Adam turned and broke into a run. In the soundless world, he felt incredibly light and almost formless. The Lace grew larger. Adam saw its shadow stretch over the ground despite the twilight. The dream had decided to sacrifice the laws of physics in favor of theatrics.

It was growing and expanding. The next time Adam looked back, the Lace had taken over the entire sky, sucking all the bright yellows and oranges out of it. With a deep, chaotic thunder sound rushed back into existence and Adam had to press his ears shut. It was the equivalent of turning on the light when first waking up. The monumental noise made Adam trip and fall to the ground. He looked up at the sky and gasped. It was the sky of Hell – occupied by the Lace, dark, heavy clouds with blood red light seeping through its cracks. It was earth scorched by lava, hundreds of vessels intertwining in unpredictable but somewhat symmetrical patterns.

It was everywhere. There couldn’t possibly be a way to escape this. Adam crawled backwards and then risked turning his back to the Lace again. Something jerked his hand. The noise was growing louder. Thunder reigned across the Irish landscape, the monster stretching out its vessels. Suddenly it moved towards the ground, breaking the illusion of the sky, reducing the size of the earth in a split second. Adam’s arm was hurting even though there was nothing that could possibly be causing it. He kept running. The noise was by now painfully loud. Adam ran. Through the thunder, he thought he heard his name. He had no time to make sure. After a while it came again, a bit clearer this time. The thunder was ripping the world apart. _Adam_. Adam scanned his surroundings. The dream was beginning to fade, a whisper of wakefulness starting at the back of Adam’s mind.

_Adam_

Adam opened his eyes and was back at the motel. The thunder hadn’t yet faded. There was a lot of commotion in the room. It took him a few moments to regain consciousness and realize that the sound wasn’t the thunder. It was gunshots. And they were far from imaginary.

Declan was shouting over the noise. He’d obviously been trying to pull Adam back from the dreamspace for a while. The entire right sleeve of his shirt was soaked in blood.

“Adam, we have to crawl to the bedroom!” Declan ordered. Adam began moving, Declan following at his side. Adam saw no sign of Matthew or Jordan but there was also not enough time to dwell in it now. They got to the room and Declan kicked the door shut with his foot.

The bullets immediately began shattering holes into the wood. One whistled right past Adam’s good ear. It occurred to him that had it been an inch closer, he would have been completely deaf. There wasn’t a lot of time to linger on that thought, as Declan pulled Adam towards himself with such force that Adam’s arms almost got pulled from their sockets. Another bullet whizzed through the empty space Adam had just occupied a second ago.

In the movies, this was where the slow motion usually took over, giving the heroes just enough time to piece together an escape strategy. Nothing of the sort happened. There was just noise and thundering hearts, and dust clouds. Adam’s mind racing so fast it felt blank. The two of them crawled into the next room. Glass shattered and rained over their heads as new and new rounds of bullets flew above them in search of a target. He looked outside the window and for a second thought the Lace had followed him here. Declan was almost at the window, no doubt attempting to open it and get to the fire escape. Adam saw him getting to his feet and knew instinctively it was a second too soon.

He flung forward, grabbing at Declan’s legs, causing him to sway and trip back to the ground. Declan grunted as a bullet landed in his arm. Declan swore and clutched it with his other hand. A second earlier and the bullet would have hit his chest. For about five seconds the shooting stopped. It was all the time the two of them had to quickly open the window and climb out. The shooting resumed. Adam waited to be hit. He tried to prepare himself for the pain.

One summer when he was much younger a bee had gotten tangled in Adam’s hair and didn’t seem to be able to get out. It was buzzing anxiously for what seemed like an eternity. Adam had fallen to the ground and waited for it to sting. It was inevitable, there was nothing he could do and his heart was going into overload. But then the bee untangled itself and flew away. Just like that.

Adam climbed over the ledge and onto the stairs. The metal was cold and unwelcoming, illuminated only by the dim moonlight. Declan, who had managed to get to his feet by that time hurried down the stairs. A red Toyota screeched to a halt on the street and Adam half expected it to be the end of them. When they got closer to the ground, Adam saw it was Jordan behind the wheel and Matthew in the passenger seat. In a few seconds, they jumped down the last few steps and jumped into the backseat of the small car. Before Declan had managed to close the door behind him, Jordan hit the gas pedal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next time (hopefully sooner than last time).

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, if you'd like to read on, let me know ;)


End file.
